


Give me a reason

by GoneBunny, Watchword



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Comics), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2003), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Adult Content, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Healing, Mental Breakdown, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:20:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24311941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoneBunny/pseuds/GoneBunny, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Watchword/pseuds/Watchword
Summary: When Leonardo is mentally pushed to the brink, Karai is there to give him a place to heal... and perhaps, a new beginning.
Relationships: Karai/Leonardo (TMNT)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 29





	Give me a reason

**Author's Note:**

> This story is an roleplay log between Watchword and I that was written almost 2 years ago and it's half based on the mirage comics and 2003 version of the characters.
> 
> WARNING for suicidal ideation and attempt. If the subject is triggering to you, I suggest not reading this. Also, adult content ahead.

He staggered to the edge of the roof and peered over. For a moment he reeled, horrified at the drop. The distance would swallow him up.  
  
Why not let it?  
  
He swayed. He bore no equipment on this run. He didn’t even wear his bandanna. He had gone to a part of town that the Foot firmly owned. And when they didn't stop him, he'd ended up here, at the very top of a skyscraper.  
  
If he jumped, at least his family would think the killing was an accident.

**

“I was wondering what you were doing on Foot turf, running around without so much as your beloved blades,” said a nonchalant voice from somewhere behind him.

As the clouds had parted, the moon revealed Karai with her arms crossed, leaning against the metal frame of the building’s cooling system. She looked relaxed, almost unfazed as she measured him up. 

Leonardo finally at his wit’s end? Interesting. 

She pushed herself away from the wall and started in his direction. “Jesus, Leonardo… I thought you were done playing the martyr years ago.” There was distaste and something akin to disappointment in her voice.

**

His mouth worked. Tongue ran over teeth, over gums. He stood before her utterly naked. Why not bare the truth, too?  
  
"I killed my father," he said in a strangled voice. He stepped down onto the blacktop. "The first sword broke on his spine. The second..."  
  
He ran a finger along one of the joins at the bottom of his plastron. There was a deep, chalky gash in the bone that a casual viewer might have missed.  
  
"I am not worthy enough to live," he said in a monotone. He fell to his knees before her and threw his head back. "Do whatever you want."

**

“So… the old rat is dead.” she hummed, mulling over this information while also sizing him up. She had seen him without his mask before on rare occasion but combined with the lack of all other gear and weapons, he truly looked vulnerable. 

And now what? He was waiting for her to show mercy and kill him?

Nonsense.

“Whatever the reason, it is done now,” she started, walking slowly around him while looking out over the horizon. Lights and shadows danced in the distance, reminding her of the past. 

She had also killed her father once. It was a cross she would carry forever with dignity. It had to be done and she refused to dwell on the past.

She had expected the same from Leonardo.

“I know he groomed you to be a tool for a cause. You lived to serve him, even if it was hidden behind the pretense of familial bond - which is where your guilt takes root.”

Once she was behind him, she touched his carapace lightly and knelt down.

“You killed your keeper. Take your freedom and move forward. Throwing your life away would change nothing. Not to mention…” she leaned closer, “you would miss out on the best part about being alive,” she whispered, her hot breath on his neck. She reached over his shoulders to cup his face lightly, fingertips ghosting over his skin in a barely-there caress, before moving down to rest on his shoulders.

**

He listened to her dully as she circled him, but he did not expect her to touch him.  
  
Her fingers burned like brands. At first he froze underneath her touch, immobile. He finally leaned back into her grip. Why not, after all?

"What are you doing?" he asked at last. "I don't understand."

**

She didn’t reply. Instead, she stood up and walked around to stand in front of him, reaching out a hand in invitation. Her expression remained neutral.

“Come with me, Leonardo.”

**

He stared up at her dully. Then he took her hand.

*

She pulled him up and then let go of his hand. She turned on her heels and walked towards the door that led to the staircase of the building - trusting him to follow her. 

She’d ordered her men back at HQ to disable the security cameras in this particular office building even before catching up to Leonardo. The Foot had access to all the buildings’ security measures within their turf for obvious reasons.

They’ve descended in silence.

She took him out the back entrance where a black car was parked. She’d ordered one of her men to deliver it and then to leave it.

“Get in.”

After he complied and crawled into the back, she took the driver’s seat, started the engine and drove off with a firm destination in mind - all the while glancing back at him through the rear view mirror.

He looked apathetic.

No matter. 

They’ve arrived to what looked like a nicer part of the city with fancy apartment buildings lining the street. She parked in the garage. There were no other cars there - the Foot owned the entire building and it was designated to Karai’s personal use. No one else was allowed in unless she said so.

“Follow me. No need for stealth, I own the entire building. No one else is here.” she reassured him. 

They took the elevator to the fifth floor. She regarded him thoughtfully. He looked pale.

She’ll make the blood rush back to his face shortly.

Fishing out a key, she opened the door to one of the apartments on the floor and went in ahead of him. When he was reluctant to step through the threshold, she cocked an eyebrow.

“Well? Come on in.”

*

He hesitated at the threshold. The whole journey felt like something out of a fairytale. He'd followed behind her like a tame dog, wandered down dark staircases, watched streets float by through tinted windows. He felt transported, like he was floating in a spirit world. It was easy to feel that he might close his eyes, only to open them again in his own bed, and realize it had all been a strange dream.  
  
When he took a step into her apartment, the strangeness hit him all over again. The antechamber floor was polished marble and a cupola above was painted to resemble a night sky, complete with diamonds for stars. Just past the anteroom, a plush carpet led into a grand dining room where everything glowed gold and amber. Beyond that, a room of comfortable couches with a TV that took up an entire wall. Hallways spidered away in every direction. The central air kicked on, sweet and clean.  
  
Suddenly, he felt very small. And worse... he felt filthy. He looked down at his arms. He was streaked with cobwebs, rust, soot. Mud had dried in crackled sheets on his calves.  
  
Dried blood.  
  
He staggered back out into the hall and threw up.

*

She sighed in half-annoyance and half-pity. Now she’d have to text the cleaning faculty on duty to make an emergency trip and clean up the hallway.

She took him by the arm and pulled him inside. The door closer behind them automatically and the lock clicked into place.

Well… first thing’s first. He needed a thorough cleaning.

Still holding his arm in a firm grip, she led him down a corridor, passing a dark bedroom and a study. They stepped into a room at the end of the hall and as Karai flicked on a switch, warm, subdued light filled in what turned out to be a luxurious bathroom. A giant square bathtub stood in the middle and an equally spacious shower was placed in the far corner with glass walls. Two sets of washbasins stood next to each other on a marble top, a mirror taking up the wall behind it within an intricate gold frame. Windows lined the wall behind the tub with the view of the river and the Brooklyn Bridge twinkling in the distance. The moon was high tonight.

She walked past him and leaned over what looked like a dashboard to work the bathtub. She pushed a few buttons and water started filling up the tub. She set it to turn off automatically once the water level reached the sensors near the top of the tub wall. 

She threw some scented bath salts into the water as an afterthought. 

Karai stood up and walked past him again, out the door. 

“Wait here,” she said over her shoulder and closed the door behind her, leaving him alone with the sound of dripping water and the scent of lavender.

*

He didn't have enough resources to think. He let her lead him like a child and he had no questions anymore.  
  
For a minute or two he just watched the bathtub fill without moving. If someone had seen him from the outside, they would have thought he was thinking. He was not thinking. He did not dare.

Finally, he could no longer stand the stench of vomit on his breath, and went to the sink to wash out his mouth. He looked at himself dully in the mirror. A spare thought reared its sluggish head.

What use did Karai have for him?  
  
He was no fool. Honor only seemed to instruct her when it worked for her purposes. She had tried to kill him in earnest before. He didn't understand her motives now.

There had certainly been emotional connection between them, but in those times he had been at his best. Or certainly... not like this, foul and weak and traitorous.

*

Karai hurried into the wardrobe room. It was also quite big for a space solely designated to store clothes, with its many racks and shelves. She didn’t have much here as far as personal belongings and clothes went - this wasn’t her home, just one of the many apartments she used for sexual liaisons. 

The few spare clothes hanging on the racks were mostly alternate ninja outfits and a couple of robes, nightgowns and cocktail dresses. She kicked off her shoes and quickly pulled off her clothes, not wanting to waste time leaving the suicidal mutant alone in her bathroom for too long. God knows, he could drown himself or something similarly… troublesome.

She grabbed a black silk kimono robe, decorated with red spider lilies and pulled it over her shoulders, tying a loose knot at the waist. Leaving the discarded clothes thrown across the floor, she padded back bare feet and re-entered the bathroom, having been gone for less than five minutes.

Leonardo stood just where she had left him. Good.

The tub was full, the water still and steaming invitingly. 

That’s not where they were headed first, though.

“Get in the shower,” she told him with the same monotone voice she’d been addressing him since they left the roof. He seemed reluctant so she shot him one of her _“do as I say or else_ ” glares to make him move.

She watched him pad over to the shower. Once he stepped into the glass cubicle, she followed him across the room, undoing the knot on the kimono as she went with one flick of her hand, the robe floating off her shoulders to settle in a silent heap on the floor.

She was completely naked before him but she didn’t so much as miss a beat as she stepped into the shower. 

The space was big enough for two people to move around comfortably. She took the shower head, turned on a spray of warm water and proceeded to rinse him off methodically, slapping his hand away when he tried to protest. 

*

Nothing had startled him. The daughter of his mortal enemy massaging his throat? Driving him to a ritzy apartment? Drawing him a bath? He could take it all. He expected a hidden knife at the end of each step. The daughter of his mortal enemy stripping off in front of him, though? The silk drifted apart and he could see everything, the firm breasts and the tuft of hair between her legs and the scars that he'd given her...  
  
It reminded him of a time not long ago--back when he had been more idealistic about her, about how much closer they could grow if she would only say no to the Foot and her father. He imagined a hundred different scenarios, and in one of them she came to their lair to live with them. In some of those daydreams, she revealed herself to him like this, and... he'd never been much of one for jerking off, but he'd had some great moments with that daydream.  
  
It took him a long time to realize that he was staring directly at her breasts.  
  
He looked away at once, swallowing. She forced his face back toward her and grabbed the showerhead, then shot him in the face with it.  
  
He coughed and sputtered, slapping at her.  
  
"Why the hell are you naked?" he said at last. A little bit of his old moral horror was in his voice.

*

What a stupid question. She rolled her eyes.

“Because we are in the shower,” she said, leaving it at that like she was stating a simple fact to a child.

Karai was very practical as she went about cleaning him, brushing a soaped sponge across his skin to scour the filth and dried blood off. She only paused once, when her hand brushed over the gash on his plastron.

She sighed and closed her eyes.

“Tell me what happened.” 

She didn’t mean to ask him so soon (or at all) but she felt the strange need to understand exactly what drove Leonardo to murder the rat he had idolized and wanted to please his entire life. 

**

He shuddered as the sponge caught on the jagged bone. In the back of his mind, the little neurotic voice was telling him how to fix himself: he needed to sand down the rough bits. He needed resin. He was going to catch on every bit of fabric from here to Timbuktu.  
  
"Normal families aren't raised learning how to kill," he said softly, looking away from her toward the bathtub. "He was using me. I was nothing more than a tool. I love my bro... my brothers, but..." He jerked backward. "I'm tired of living my life for other people all of the time! When can I have a life of my own, Karai? When will it be my turn?"

**

She was listening to him while continuing to scrub at his arm. When he was finished with his mini-rant, her hand dropped away and she slowly looked up to meet his eyes.

“It’s already your turn. You can have a life now. And you were inches away from throwing it all away.”

Her voice sounded firm and her eyes said ‘ _I_ _expected more from you’_ but she wasn’t going to put more salt over the wound. Even she wasn’t that cruel. 

**

"That's just it," he snapped. "I could've left. I could've just left. Why did I stay until I couldn't hold back anymore? I did this. And now I can't ever go back."

**

“Of course you can’t go back. It’s done now so own up to it, make peace and move forward,” she said this like it was a simple thing to do but she knew very well it wasn’t so. But she had to give him something firm to hold on to, to think about.

She turned the water off after rinsing him one last time and before he could go on another tirade of self-pity, she took him by the arm and pulled him out of the glass cubicle. She let go of him as she walked on towards the bathtub and set down near the edge. She leaned over the surface and swiped one hand through the water. It felt pleasantly hot and relaxing. 

Her white skin glistened wetly in the low light. She turned back to him expectantly.

“Get in the tub.”

**

He had already stopped thinking about her nakedness. The daydreams of his younger self faded away. She owned her nakedness; it was only a tool, an aspect of her, a symbol of her honesty and trust in him. It was strange, but somehow he appreciated it. Like she was naked as he was naked before her, but without shame.  
  
He bent his head at her command and stepped up into the tub, then huffed in surprise.  
  
"Hot," he said softly, and slid in.

**

She followed and sat down across from him, leaning against the side. Her cheeks flushed from the heat and the stress of the day was slowly seeping out through her limbs, leaving her drowsy.

The water was clear and transparent. She preferred it this way (as opposed to bubble baths), it reminded her of the hot springs back home - back in Japan. 

Japan… she missed it. She would travel there whenever duty called but it never gave her enough time to just… be. To sit like this, in an onsen at Mt. Rokko, surrounded by red momiji.

She looked over at Leonardo. Relaxed in the hot water, he looked like a kappa from old folk tales. 

She smiled despite herself and closed her eyes.

**

Leo sank into the water up to his chin, eyes heavy-lidded. His heartbeat slowed. Across from him, Karai lay with her head thrown back, an image of relaxation.  
  
"Karai," he said softly. "What comes next? I mean... I don't understand what you want from me. Not that I'm not grateful, but..."

**

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, her chest rising and falling. She stayed in the same position, eyes closed and head resting on the edge as she addressed him.

“What I want from you is _not_ to have to collect you again from the ledge of another building two nights from now.” _or wash up your corpse from the streets,_ she didn’t add. “You’ll stay here until I deem you stable enough to leave. You’ll take care of your mind and your body, even if I have to personally tie you to a chair and force feed you porridge.” 

She lifted her head and looked straight at him. “Are we clear?” 

Her voice left no room for argument.

**

He felt sick.  
  
"So I stay alive," he said dully. "For what?" He ran his hands over his face. "I could... wander the universe, I guess."  
  
That sounded ridiculously depressing, and he didn't want to think about why.

**

“You’ll have to find your own reason to live for, Leonardo,” she finished quietly. After that she closed her eyes again, enjoying the silence and peace of soaking in hot water, her mind quiet.

After a while Karai realized she was drifting and she shifted a bit to wake herself. She figured Leo probably felt drowsy too, even more than herself - considering everything. She slowly stood up in the tub. Water rolled down her skin in rivulets, hair sticking to her face from the steam, her cheeks rosy. 

She stood unmoving, looking down at him thoughtfully for a moment, arms relaxed at her sides. Transparent droplets trickled down her curves. The overhead spotlight cast a shadow to her front, her outline shimmering against the night sky and the faraway city lights of Brooklyn across the river.

_He’s too lost. He needs rest before he can even start thinking about how to move forward._

A moment later Karai turned and stepped out of the tub. She took a towel to dry herself lightly before dropping it on a stool. There was a cabinet over the towel racks - she opened it and took out a clean kimono robe - this one deep sea blue in color. She shrugged into it, the satin sticking to her skin in wet patches since she didn’t bother to towel thoroughly.

She turned and walked to the bathroom door. “Stay here, I’ll be a minute,” she called over her shoulder and stepped out, closing the door behind her.

**

He lay back in the soothing heat and for a long time all he could do was rub his face. He'd never see his brothers again. How could he? He considered lying to them; fabricating a story about an intruder. Just as quickly, he thrust the thought away. He was a horrible liar. His own swords lay beside their father's corpse, one of them broken off in Splinter's spine. Everyone had known he and Splinter were arguing. There was nothing to hide.  
  
He was horrified anew that he had the arrogance to just... steal life away from him, like it would solve any problems at all.  
  
It made him sick.  
  
After a while, he heard Karai shift. He lifted his hand and there she was, standing utterly naked and unashamed in front of him. She glistened, and her hair was a rumpled, clinging halo. She was terrifying, he thought. Suddenly he couldn't understand why he had masturbated to the thought of her without clothing; if she had kissed him now, he wouldn't have been able to raise a finger, much less his dick. He wouldn't have felt any desire. She stood beyond him, unassailable.  
  
He knew why.  
  
Because suddenly he wasn't good enough to touch her. Because she could see through him now and she knew he was shit. When he had been Honorable and Good, he could imagine approaching her... as a kind of saint, a kind of savior, he realized. A different kind of arrogance, one that robbed her of her own value and agency as a person.  
  
She told him she'd be back and left the room. He sank into the water with his thoughts and closed his eyes. Had he always been this way? Had he always been this way and just never noticed it? A blow-hard, a brown-noser, a pretentious and sanctimonious prick?  
  
He dropped below the surface of the water and into its close embrace.  
  
Not good enough. Not good enough. Not good enough.

He had not ever been good enough, and he had been too blinded by self-love to see it.

**

She hurried to the kitchen, filled a glass with water and took some pills from the first-aid kit in one of the upper cabinets over the sink. 

She padded back and stopped near the bedroom, flicking on the lights. A queen-sized bed stood in the middle, its frame made of black wrought iron, swirling patterns snaking around the frame. The canopy stood tall with white tulle curtains, currently drawn back and tied to the bed posts.

Karai stood in the doorframe and looked at the bed thoughtfully. Should she make him sleep here or on the sofa bed in the living room? His condition was critical right now and she wanted him to sleep deeply and near her, at least for a few days. Later she can move him to the living room.

Nodding to herself, she hurried back to the bathroom - and nearly dropped the glass to the tiled floor.

Leonardo was under the water and not coming up.

She put the glass (and pills) down on the marble table top with a loud clink. Taking four big strides to the tub, she thrust her hands into the water, grabbed him under his arms and yanked him to the surface. When he proceeded to splutter water, she thrust him back against the tub wall and looked at him with rising anger and the urge to slap him across the face.

“Just what the _hell_ do you think you’re _doing,_ Leonardo?!” she yelled at him, hands tightening around his bicep.

**

He spat a stream of water and squinted at her. The one good thing about releasing his ego was realizing he had nothing to lose.  
  
"I thought it was obvious," he said, leaning back in the tub. "I don't know why you're doing this, Karai, but you don't have to."

**

This time she slapped him so hard it echoed through the room and left a dark imprint on his face.

“You _insult_ me,” she hissed under her breath and stood up. She towered over him like an unshakeable mountain, glaring daggers with a hint of hurt.

_Fine. Time for Plan B._

“I’ll make a deal with you. You’re staying here for two months. If after two months you still want to end your life, I’ll help you cross that bridge - I’ll kill you myself. But until then,” she paused, making sure he was listening, “you’ll do as I say and focus on moving forward.”

She extended her hand, expecting him to take it.

“Swear on your honor, Leonardo. I know you still have some left.”

**

She had smacked him so hard it took his breath away and brought tears to his eyes. He had accidentally bitten the inside of his mouth and tasted blood. And, oddly... it was invigorating. He felt strange flutters in the pit of his stomach.  
  
"I'm sorry. I never meant to insult your kindness," he said softly.  
  
He reached out and clasped her hand.  
  
"I swear to keep by this agreement," he said.

**

She tightened her grip around his hand and burned holes into his head with her piercing gaze, looking for sincerity. 

Sincerity she found, but his heart wasn’t in it. 

No matter. That was going to change.

She yanked him to his feet and tossed a towel at him to dry off. Walking back to the marble top, she took the glass and pills and went back to him.

“Swallows these,” she commanded, offering it to him. Expecting his utmost trust, she didn’t explain that the pills would put him into a deep sleep with no dreams - something he needed desperately.

After he took them, she told him to follow her and led him out of the bathroom, down the hall and into the bedroom where she left the lights on earlier.

“You are going to sleep here, temporarily,” she said simply.

**

He hesitated at the bed, leaning on the iron frame. He coughed and covered his mouth--an attempt at covering a cackle. For a brief second he had connected two entirely different thoughts: that this was the bed that he expected to find a princess sleeping in, and that he was going to *be* that princess. To cover the sudden thought, he dropped onto the mattress.  
  
"Thank you," he said. He was starting to feel a little woozy.

**

After he settled in, she padded over to the dresser that stood in the corner. After pulling out one of the drawers and rummaging inside, she took out a black satin nightgown. She stood with her back towards the bed as she untied the knot on the robe, let it slide off of her white shoulders to the floor and pulled on the gown in its place.

Walking back silently, she went around the bed to the opposite side and, without missing a beat, pulled back the covers and lay down next to him (at an appropriate distance).

She stared at him. He stared back. She figured he deserved some explanation before he started losing his shit over having a woman in bed with him.

“You swore on your honor but you still need to earn my trust that you won’t do anything stupid when I’m not within an earshot, especially during the first few nights, so I’m going to watch over your sleep.”

He wouldn’t have time to freak out anyway, the pills should kick in quickly enough.

**

He swayed. He was starting to feel light and cotton-headed. He slid beneath the covers. To his shock, she undressed before him again.  
  
"You're.... you're just showing off now," he murmured, but she didn't seem to hear him.  
  
His inhibitions were starting to sink away. Seeing her bare white back, the long pale legs, the plump buttocks... god. This was something he'd dreamed about not more than a year ago. Before, he'd often been conflicted: he hadn't been sure if she were toying with his desires or if she really liked him. Now that she had nothing to gain, what was she showing him her ass for?  
  
To his shock, she slid into the bed beside him. He held absolutely still. God, his eyelids were so heavy. He didn't want to shut his eyes with her looking at him like that. He was just about to protest--he could sleep perfectly well, goddammit--when he closed his eyes.  
  
He didn't remember anything more.

**

Karai watched as he passed out before her eyes and fallen into a deep slumber. 

She took a deep breath and slowly released it. She could feel the start of a numbing headache near her temple. Today was stressful in ways she hadn’t experienced before.

Talking someone out of suicide wasn’t exactly something she’d done before...ever. Then again, she’d never really cared about anyone before to worry about their well-being, either.

She cared about Leonardo.

They shared a strange history of reluctant friendship that constantly kept being tested by their clans’ opposing interests. They both had helped each other and nearly killed each other equal times in the past. It had never been clear where their future lied.

She certainly didn’t expect to find him on the ledge of a skyscraper, ready to jump to his death. Even less so, to learn he’d killed the one person in his life he’d seemed to idolize as long as she’d known him. And just how much had that broken him...

He looked peaceful now, his breathing even and deep. She reached out to touch his face - his breath hitched a little and he leaned into her hand before settling back.

There was a strange pull in her heart. A dull pain.

She pulled away and got up from the bed. The headache was getting worse.

Padding quietly to the kitchen, she got a painkiller from the cupboard and made some lavender tea to calm her mind. She went to the living room and settled down on the sofa while sipping from the steaming mug. There was a paperback novel on the coffee table - she grabbed it. Reading would give her something to focus on until the painkiller took effect. After half an hour her eyes grew heavy and she dozed off on the throw pillow.

She woke up at 6 AM sharp, her internal clock signaling it was time to start the day. She had to go to Foot HQ. Except, she couldn’t leave Leonardo alone for long, not in the state he was in.

Still, if she was going to go off the radar for weeks, there were things she had to arrange for that she couldn’t do over the phone. Half a day should be enough. There were cameras in every room, so she could at least check on whether Leonardo was still moving around or not.

She showered quickly and got dressed in simple business attire. Grabbing a notepad, she scribbled down a message while sipping her morning coffee:

_Gone out to get some business in order._

_Be back by 2 PM.  
_ _Fridge is stacked. Eat whatever you fancy.  
_ _There are cameras in the apartment so don’t try anything stupid.  
_ _Remember our agreement._

_-K_

She went to the bedroom where he was still sleeping peacefully. Putting the note on the nightstand where he would find it, she took one last look at him before heading out the front door.

**

He woke up with sticky eyes and a foul taste in his mouth.  
  
He rolled over. The mattress was like a cloud. He took a deep breath... heard the AC kick on...  
  
An AC? In the sewer? And it smelled too good to be the sewer.  
  
Wait a minute.  
  
His eyes flicked open. Then he struggled up to a sitting position, heart thudding.  
  
He was lying in the princess bed. He had been in the same bed as Karai. He swung around and stared down where she had lain. The comforter had been flipped back and there was a dimple on the pillow beside him. He listened intently. He heard the faint tick of a clock, the buzz of something electronic, the internal air...  
  
The memory of why he was there hit him like a gut punch.  
  
He sat very still, heart racing. Suddenly he was violently homesick. Lightheaded, horrified, he looked back at his past self raising the sword, his father's judgmental frown. He could imagine his brothers crying. Oh, poor Mike. He was probably inconsolable. And Raph. Raph's anger would flare up so hot that it would be a miracle if they could coexist in the same room together.  
  
He started shaking. The color bleached out of him. For a while he simply sat up stiffly, staring at the far wall, and knotted the comforter up in his fists. Tears streamed down his cheeks. Everything was wrong. He'd completely fucked up and it was unforgivable. He deserved to die.  
  
He reached for his swords before he remembered that he'd already broken them. He whirled around to look for a substitute, heart in his throat, when he saw the paper sitting on the nightstand beside him. He snatched it up and read it.

"Oh," he said, and dropped his hand onto his lap.  
  
Then he slumped underneath the covers and squeezed his eyes shut.  
  
He was going to sleep. There was no feeling or memory to haunt him there.

**

Hours passed by quickly as she hurried through the necessary preparations at HQ. She assigned one of her most trusted elites, a well-mannered man in his late thirties named Satou, to take the helm while she was “out of office”. The good thing about being CEO was that she didn’t owe anyone any extensive explanations about her whereabouts.

She checked the camera recording on her phone once every hour - Leonardo was still in bed. That was… good, she guessed. He probably needed a lot of sleep the first few days.

After making sure everything was in order and taken care of during her absence, she rushed back to the apartment - and sure enough, found him asleep just where she’d left him. The note was next to him on the bed, which implied he had woken at some point and then went back to bed.

The next few days passed in similar fashion: Leonardo slept anywhere between twelve to sixteen hours. While he was up, she forced him to eat - small, easy meals his stomach would accept. He got access to her extensive collection of books, majority of which was Japanese literature. Reading was always a good escape and his mind needed a break.

After a week and a half, he started to look antsy so she pulled him into the private dojo down the hall of the building to work out. They did katas together and sparred bare-handed. His moves were unfocused and he seemed scattered but she pushed him all the same.

She realized he often looked lost and lopsided without his gear, especially his katanas. One afternoon there was a special delivery from Japan that she signed for. The items came in two separate boxes: one was square shaped and held an assortment of protective gear for his knees, elbows, calves and lower arm, as well as a belt. Even if he was not allowed outside, he needed gear for their training to avoid scraping and injury.

The other box was long and thin, revealing a pair of exquisite steel katanas, beautifully crafted and of high value, held in black lacquer scabbards. She presented the swords to him and promptly silenced him when he started to protest, not wanting to accepting the gift.

“You will need these to get back on your feet,” she said, her tone accepting no arguments. 

**

The first few days passed so slowly that they were a torment. He couldn't face them. He didn't want to think about time, about what was going on outside, about what had happened in the past. He had no appetite. His whole body felt weighted down. Even opening his eyelids was difficult. If Karai hadn't been there, he wouldn't have eaten at all. But he had to eat. Partially because he remembered their deal--and partially because he felt rude if he didn't. He would sit down in front of her--with her five-star meals cooked by five-star chefs. Fresh, flakey fish that melted in his mouth, crisp salads tossed with vinaigrette, hot teas, fresh water. He could barely stomach it. He would take a few nibbles and go back to bed.  
  
One day he woke up and he felt something new: strident, snapping anxiety, an unfocused anger. He got up early, about four am--his typical rising time--and started pacing. There was a heat in his head, a crazy heat. He could not focus. He was just angry, formlessly angry.  
  
So Karai had invited him to work out.  
  
He had lost a lot of strength and he wasn't focused. She kept kicking his ass. He didn't care. He felt like he deserved it. He didn't even try to win. Oddly, this was where he started feeling the return of normalcy. He knew this back and forth, this kind of dance. Karai's presence, too. Her smell, her quirks on the battlefield, the sound of her voice, her fighting style. It brought him back to the moment: just this one moment was all that mattered. Here, and now, trying to think one step ahead of Karai, not just survive her blows, but fly past them...  
  
And then the mail came.

She gave him garments much like those he had worn with his brothers. It brought a lump to his throat. And then she gave him the twin katana.

He tried to protest. She hissed over him. She held them out with both hands, glaring him down.

He didn't want to touch them.  
  
But as with the food, he couldn't bring himself to resist. She'd gone to so much trouble. Katana weren't cheap or easy to make. His old ones had been made by Don, for better or for worse, and Leo had always wondered if those made by a master would feel different.  
  
They did.  
  
They were much lighter, for one thing. They were also beautiful--rippling waves of charcoal, silver, and pearl ran down the exposed blades. He was both repulsed by them and awed. He could see Splinter falling over and over, and... he could see Karai, staring him down. For a moment, he froze.

"Thank you," he choked out.

**

Seeing him geared up, with blades crossed over his shell sent a shiver down her spine. He used to look balanced with katanas in his hands. Now he looked a bit like a puppet with fancy clothes - shiny but…empty. She knew he still had a long way to climb and perhaps the blades brought back the worst of his memories but he had to face them sooner or later. He couldn’t hide forever.

She didn’t want him to hide from her, either. Ever since that first evening in the bathroom when he was raw with emotion, he hadn’t really spoken about… well, anything. He was a closed-off wall, trying to process everything within himself. She could sense it though, some of the torment he tried so hard to push down and hide: shame, guilt, self-hatred, depression…

Emptiness.

Longing.

Getting him to exercise managed to push some of his old self back to the surface but it was still a weak imitation of who he used to be.

Weeks went by, and she would notice some small progress here and there. She never showed it but her heart swelled whenever she caught a glimpse of the Leonardo she used to know. 

And then he would have bad days… it was a game of one step forward, two steps back. Time was running out. They had an agreement and if she didn’t push him through…

She didn’t want to think about what she had promised him. She did not tolerate failure, not in this situation. She wouldn’t accept it - neither from him, nor from herself. But it seemed he was stuck, unable to move past a certain point and she wasn’t sure how to handle that.

After a while, she had relocated him to the sofabed in the living room, recovering her claim of the queen-sized bed. She was jerked awake one night to the sound of china crashing on tiled floor. She was on her feet in seconds, pulling on her robe as she hurried to the source of the sound: the kitchen. She found him there in the dark, kneeling on the floor, collecting pieces of a broken teapot. His hand was bleeding.

“What are you doing? It’s 2:30 am!” she huffed, turning on the light and padding to his side. She crouched down and grabbed his hand to inspect the cut.

**

He had woken up in the middle of the night unable to breathe. There was a black shape on his chest, leaning down. In his tortured vision, he thought he saw a familiar face. In his ear, a familiar voice. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't...  
  
He broke out of the nightmare sweating, rolled out of the bed and fell onto his knees. He sucked one breath after another.  
  
Oh, god.  
  
Staggering to his feet, he dragged into the kitchen. One of the things he had always habitually done when he felt wretched was fix tea. He reached up for the teapot. His hands were quaking uncontrollably. He folded his nerveless fingers around the handle, pulled it out of the cabinet, and...  
  
His hands spasmed at the same time. He couldn't stop it. The teapot slipped between his fingers.  
  
He had always been enamored with slices of time. In this slice of time, everything is okay. The teapot is whole one instant before touching the floor. It is conceivable that it could be saved at this point, and this point, and this one. But there's a point of no return. He watched the teapot shatter in slow motion.

He dropped to his knees beside the teapot and dragged his fingers through the shards. Oh, no. He couldn't break this. It had to be expensive. Everything that Karai owned was expensive. He'd just done something he couldn't take back.  
  
Something he couldn't take back!

And suddenly, without warning, the lights burst on. It was physically painful. He gritted his teeth and lifted a hand to shield his eyes. Karai was there, yelling, but he couldn't understand her. She might as well have been speaking German for all he understood.  
  
This was when he felt the warm liquid dripping down his arm. She crouched beside him, grabbed his hand and turned it over. He'd cut his palm on the sharp porcelain. He stared at it dumbly.

When he raised his eyes to hers, he saw the fear and worry all over her face. Suddenly he was flushed with warmth. His heartbeat slowed. He caught his breath.  
  
Karai had been his truest friend this entire time, hadn't she? Nobody else in the universe would have opened their door to him.  
  
He reached up around her waist and buried his face into her shoulder, wrapping her up in an embrace. He didn't know what he wanted to say. "Thank you" didn't seem like enough.

\--

The unexpected embrace made her tense up for a moment, but she relaxed a second later. She took a deep breath and put her arms around his shoulders. She realized then that this was the first time in weeks that he’d opened up to her, raw with pain. 

He was trembling, shaking like a leaf, clutching her tightly. She pulled him closer, one hand moving to his neck and over his scalp, caressing in a soothing manner.

“It’s okay, Leonardo,” she said quietly, “It’s fine. Everything is… fine...” 

She paused. Everything was not fine but she didn’t know what else to tell him. He seemed terrified. 

She pulled away just a bit, cupped his face and kissed him on the forehead, whispering soothing words. She had to keep him on the surface. He couldn’t sink away, not after everything. Not when…

Not when he meant so much to her.

**

He nuzzled against her neck and he wasn't thinking about how it might look or felt when he rubbed his cheek up against her cheek. He wanted to press completely against her. The heat of her breath, the rise and fall of her chest, the sweet, low-key perfume, all of it soothed him.  
  
"Don't let me go," he whispered.

**

Feeling him so close felt soothing for her, too. She nuzzled him back and hummed. 

“I won’t,” she replied.

Leaning in, she kissed his closed eyelids, feeling wetness there. She felt light-headed. She was crossing a line and she didn’t even care, she was barely conscious of what she was doing. She wanted to keep him close (closer than ever), to give him something… anything to hold onto.

Her lips found his and she kissed him tenderly, slowly, hands running down his arms.

**

Her kiss was so warm and gentle. He leaned into it, awkwardly returning it. His heart beat sluggishly, and his breath had slowed. He trembled now not because he was afraid, but because of anticipation. There was heat in his cheeks, faint electric buzzing where she touched him. He ran his hands up and down her sides.

**

His kiss was so shy… she smiled inwardly. Her heart swelled with warmth.

She touched his hand, her finger lacing his and—

She froze. Warm, sticky wetness in his palm. The cut. He was still bleeding. 

She broke the kiss, taking a shaky breath against his lips before leaning back and opening her eyes. He looked like he was floating on a cloud.

She took him by the wrists and stood up, pulling him to his feet with her and guiding him to the kitchen sink - all the while mentally kicking herself for getting carried away. She opened the faucet and held his bleeding palm under the trickling water. 

“Keep it there,” she said and turned to the cupboard, pulling out the first-aid kit. She took out some gauze, a clean pad and some disinfectant. She dried off his hand and proceeded to clean out the wound carefully.

\--

He floated along with her. She could have commanded him to do anything and he would have done it, quietly, without reserve. His palm hurt, but only from far away. He noted the dark stains on her clothing and felt a pang of regret.  
  
"I'm sorry," he said as she cleaned his palm. "I ruined your clothes. And your teapot." He paused. He also wanted to say... what? Something full of gratitude, full of the upwelling appreciation that filled his chest.  
  
"Thank you," he said at last, even though it was not quite right.

\--

She glanced up at him. He looked embarrassed.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said simply. She didn’t care about the broken china or clothes, those can be replaced. His mental state though… that was all she cared about at that moment.

Once his hand was securely bandaged, she took his other hand in hers.

“Come,” she said quietly, pulling him towards the bedroom, the broken china and first-aid kit forgotten. She held his hand tightly in hers, never letting go.

She turned off the light as they left the kitchen and the apartment was once again covered in the black veil of the night. The only light was seeping in through the few cracks between the curtains.

Karai’s eyes adjusted to the darkness quickly and she led him to the bed. She gestured for him to lie down. Once he did, she padded over to the other side, throwing off her robe as she went - now only wearing her flimsy satin nightgown that barely covered her thighs. 

She climbed into the bed but instead of lying down, she took the pillow on her side and pushed it up against the metal headboard, near his head. She sat up against it and moved so close Leo was about to move back to make room. She stopped him - she moved in even closer and gently lifted his head, cradling it in her lap.

*

He followed her obediently, tingles running down his spine. When she gestured for him to lay his head in her lap, he felt a rush of embarrassment at first. He looked up at her, but her gaze was so severe that he went ahead and lay his head there.

*

He visibly tensed up. She sighed and shushed him, covering his eyes with one hand, the other resting on his boney plates.

“Shhh…take a deep breath…” she whispered to him, “Relax your mind, Leonardo…”

Everything slowed down. She felt the rise and fall of his chest under her palm, his breathing evening out, muscles unclenching. Closing her eyes, she fell into his rhythm. 

She could feel it then: some of the darkness swirling in his mind. A numbing energy. It slowly dissipated like a fog, leaving behind nothing but silence.

Leo practically melted into her. He felt warm and nice. He felt like…

_Home._

She frowned. Where did that come from? She never really had a “home”. Not in the traditional sense of “family”, anyway. Or friends. One doesn’t make friends in the Foot. Only allies who can turn into enemies in a blink of an eye. Her father, the Shredder, had taught her that.

_Father..._

Karai opened her eyes and looked down at him. For once, he looked to be at ease.

Leonardo was perhaps the closest she’d ever had to a friend, but even their relationship was rocky at best. Being here, in this apartment with him felt like an interlude. It was only him and her and nothing else existed - no opposing clans, opposing interests, opposing ideas. She felt an overwhelming need to protect him, to make him whole again.

To keep him here forever, in this cocoon. In her arms.

... _no_ . _You need to help him up and then—_

_Set him free._

She took a shaky breath. After a while, she sought out his unharmed hand and laced her fingers between his, holding on tight.

**

He forced himself to relax. His pride balked, naturally. Laying his head on her lap felt infantile. He started imagining his brothers seeing him there--hearing their mocking voices about his manhood. But then he realized that they wouldn't mock him; they'd stare in confused horror, connecting dots that didn't exist. And that thought progressed to the realistic alternative--lying down alone in the other room with the shadows and his memories. He shuddered. No. He would take this.  
  
She whispered soft nothings in his ear, and he sank away under her hand. This wasn't so bad, really. This wasn't so bad at all.

He woke up the next morning. He hadn't dreamed anything that he could remember. For a few blissful moments he didn't even remember the events of the last night. Then his hand twitched and a searing pain ran up his arm. He winced and sat up, smacking his lips and scowling at his morning mouth. Then he remembered everything.  
  
He froze, then turned slowly.  
  
He had rolled away in the night, but Karai had fallen asleep where she sat against the bedstead. Her head drooped over her breast. In the pale morning light, she appeared serene. He'd seen her lop the head off of a mobster and whip it at his friend across the street. She'd mailed a man's fingers to his home address. She should have terrified him.  
  
And yet here she was, soothing him to sleep like a child, buying him gifts... kissing him.  
  
Leonardo slowly raised his hand and touched his lips.  
  
This was something he'd dreamed about ever since they'd first met. They had been raunchy thoughts, of course; he'd been hot-blooded and idealistic and raised on a steady diet of action flicks. He'd liked the narrative where the fallen woman admitted her faults and changed her ways. Instead.... there was this. Whatever this was. Not a narrative he'd ever expected for himself. Or for them.  
  
What kind of future could they possibly have? Was what happened the night before a fluke, the natural outcome of two people isolated from the world living in close proximity to one another? Or was it the outgrowth of some older sentiment, one that had matured with time and his vulnerability?  
  
_What are we?_ he wondered.

**

She was drifting in and out of sleep all night, her dreams nothing but a jumble of senseless images and colors. Sensing that she was being watched finally pulled her towards waking, but even then it didn’t register as a threat.

Her eyes fluttered open. She squinted as the light hit her eyes and the first thing she felt was that her entire back and neck had gone stiff from the awkward position she’d fallen asleep in. There was a sharp intake of breath as she moved to sit up straight and pain shot down her spine. She put her hand on her neck and moved her head left and right, face twisting in discomfort.

She’ll have to spend all morning in the dojo, working out the knots and stiffness from her muscles. How troublesome. Why did she even sleep like this…

Her eyes moved. A green hand was knotted in the sheets near her. She paused, then looked up and found Leonardo staring back at her.

Oh _._

The events from last night came back to her at once. He was vulnerable and she’d opened her arms to him. She cradled him in her lap.

She kissed him.

He was staring at her now like he was trying to figure something out. About them, probably.

She knew one thing for sure: it was too early to think about all that. She put it all on a shelf in her mind, to consider later. She needed coffee. And a shower.

“How did you sleep?” she asked at last, her voice cracking a little from disuse.

**

"Very well," he said. "Thank you."  
  
He fastened on her pained expression, the way she rocked forward with a grimace.  
  
He reached up gently and set his hand on the back of her neck.  
  
"May I?" he asked. "I've been told I'm a good masseuse."

**

His hand felt warm on her skin and she willed down the goosebumps. She nodded after a short pause.

_Might as well._

Pushing away from the headboard, she turned herself around. Her head dropped forward, presenting her long neck and the curve of her back to him. She might as well have been naked, the low-cut back of the nightgown and the thin straps over her bare shoulders hardly covering any skin.

**

Just the act of her turning her back to him makes him lightheaded. There is the swan neck, the strong back, the powerful shoulders. He reaches up and spreads his hands over her shoulder. He winces at the sharp pain in his hand. Well, he'll just use the heel that one.  
  
Slowly, he begins to knead the knotted muscles. Tingles run down his arms. His hands are literally around her throat.  
  
"Tell me if it hurts," he says.

**

She sighs and wills her shoulders to relax. His calloused fingertips press down methodically and her muscles spasm. 

She closes her eyes and leans into the hands around her neck, humming. He works her _just so_ and something comes alive within her. She chews on her lower lip but can’t help it when a whimper escapes her lips. 

It’s not a bad sound. She’s glad he can’t see her face as the blood rushes to her cheeks.

**

He hesitates. She's leaning back toward him in fractions, rising up to meet the pressure of his hands. This is when he realizes two things: 1) he is leaning toward her, and 2) the all-consuming black pit in his belly has mellowed. To give back to her is pleasing to the core of his soul. Not only pleasing, but soothing. What had once been juvenile lust had transformed into an intense devotion overnight.  
  
He leans into her, breathes in the scent of her hair. He wants to give back to her. He wants to give her everything. He wishes he had something valuable just so he could sacrifice it to her.  
  
"Karai," he whispers. "I'll do anything you want."

**

She can feel him close around her, his breath on her neck, their heat mingling with each other. It feels familiar, somehow.  
  
Then he tells her he’ll do anything she wants and she opens her eyes, pausing. She can hear the longing in his voice and she’s rushed with the memory of him clinging to her on the kitchen floor last night.  
  
She reaches up, taking the hands resting on her shoulder and pulls them down around her waist. She leans back against his chest and rests her head at the crook of his neck.  
  
“I want you to forget everything for a moment…” she says quietly, “and concentrate only on us.”  
  
She turns her head, her lips brushing against his throat.  
  
“Nothing will harm you here if you can make your mind quiet down.”

**

Still kneeling, he wrapped his arms around her and relaxed. Her lips brushed against his throat. A pulse was picking up between his legs, but he fought it down, fought only to think of her and what he could do for her.  
  
What on earth could he give to a millionaire?  
  
He squashed that worry, too. Later. Later.  
  
He held her close, exulted in the sensation of her breasts resting on his arm, the sleek belly rising and falling in even breaths. He pressed his lips into her hair and closed his eyes. He could smell her shampoo.

**

She took a deep breath and relaxed into his arms. Strange, how familiar it felt even though they have never really been this close - not without their blades at each other’s throats.  
  
Her hands were still on top of his around her middle. After a few beats, her grip tightened.  
  
“I know you want to touch me. It’s alright,” she murmured in the crook of his neck. She pulled his hands free and started guiding them slowly over the expanse of her body. The silk of her gown was so thin she may as well have been naked.  
  
“Close your eyes and tell me what you feel right now.”

**

He shuddered. He was about to tell her he couldn't touch her like that, not after...  
  
The silk bunched up under his hands. Her hands were strong and rough with calluses. He pressed down on her rippling abdomen with a palm.  
  
"Strength," he murmured. "Heat."

**

She could feel his hands trembling slightly. She guided him further up, over the swell of her breasts, slowly... over her collarbone, her throat, her cheeks. His fingers brushed through her hair.  
  
“How do you feel about me, Leonardo?” she husked, eyes closed.  
  
Her own hands fell away from his and fingertips ran down his strong arms.

**

Her breasts were so soft. He cupped them for a minute, both of them pillowed in his palms, and then his hands floated up her chest and into her sweet-smelling hair. 

He had to say the right thing. It wasn't as simple as "I love you." I adore you, I'm grateful to you, I worship you. I owe you everything. You are the only person in the universe who would have done what you did. Somehow you gave me back to me. I can trust you for reasons I don't understand.  
  
There was a little voice whispering in the back of his mind that he was only replacing Splinter with another authority figure, and he hated himself for it. But the heady perfume of lust and love and shampoo covered that dark note up as fast as he thought it.  
  
"I feel..." He took a deep breath. "I could give my life for you."

**

She stilled. There was so much devotion in his voice. No one ever said that to her and *meant it* the way that Leonardo did. His words came from an honest place. A warm place.  
  
She pushed away just enough to turn around and face him. She cupped his face and searched his eyes. She found a new light in them that wasn’t there before.  
  
She whispered his name before leaning in, kissing him softly.

**

He returned it, clumsily. His face flushed. Could she feel how hot his cheeks were? He ran his hands down to her arms, down to her heaving breast. The thudding between his legs picked up again and he squeezed his thighs together. He took deep breaths, willed the thudding to cease. Chastely, he kissed her lips, he kissed beneath her eyes, he kissed her eyelids. 

He dragged the silk of her nightgown up, up, up. It was bunched beneath his fingers and caught up around the plump breasts. His eyes were closed, but somehow, just knowing that her hips were bared was enough to lift him to cloud nine. He dragged his open palm back down her side. The silk fell over it and just like that his hand was beneath the gown, stroking down to the swell of her hip... beneath his hand, the lacy strap of her panties. His touch hitched there, but he willed his hand to stroke down to her thigh. He couldn't feel enough of her. She was crushed to him and still not close enough. His hunger for her was almost spiritual.

**

She let him explore every curve of her body, squirming and leaning into his touch. Arms snaked around his neck, one strap of her gown falling from her shoulder. She crawled forward ever so slightly and before he knew it, she was practically sitting in his lap, legs splayed around his hips.

She felt hot all over. He was clearly inexperienced, and yet every touch felt _right._ She shivered as his fingertips ran down her sides and thighs under the silk. 

Her breath hitched and she sighed, nuzzling him gently.

“Undress me,” she whispered against his lips. There is something very intimate about stripping one’s partner off and she wanted Leonardo to experience it. She rose forward on her knees and lifted her arms above her head, wrists crossed, looking down at him patiently.

**

His heartbeat skyrocketed. He was blazing hot. With eager hands, he lifted the creamy silk up until he could see her belly; up until he saw the pillowy breasts, bobbing with her every breath; and then he lifted it up over her head. For a moment he saw the imprint of her face as though through a veil. Then he lifted himself up on his knees to raise it over her head and away from her curling fingers. Her hair spilled through the generous neck of the garment in layers, fine and shining, and her dark eyes opened and fixed on his. They were so black, almost infinitely so.  
  
He dropped her gown beside them, breathing with difficulty. To his embarrassment, tears prickled at the corners of his eyes.  
  
She was just so beautiful.

Too beautiful for him to touch. He felt that her beauty was dangerous, like he would claim her and burst into flame.  
  
He reached up hesitantly, cupping her cheeks with gentle hands.  
  
"What do you want?" he whispered. "Teach me how to please you."

**

There was awe and a hint of fear in his eyes, like he couldn’t process that this was really happening. _So innocent…_ she thought. Even through the green skin she could tell he was deeply flushed, breathing hard. 

She nuzzled the broad hands cupping her face, kissing his palm and wrist. Then she took one of those hands and guided him down over her naked skin, pushing the flat of his palm down...down...over her belly and between her legs, under the flimsy fabric of her panties, right to her wet core.

“I want you to feel me…” she sighed, breath hitching at the sensation of his fingers over her folds. 

She kissed the corner of his mouth, then moved to kiss his jaw. Her own fingers slid up his muscular arms, over strong shoulders, caressing his neck briefly before nails scraped over boney plastron, roaming and searching for sensitive spots.

**

He held his breath.  
  
_This can't be happening._

His fingers slid between two hot lips, the silk and lace of her panties bulging over his fingers, and then he sank his fingers down into the heat, the wetness, felt her shudder. He had read books with small asides about sex. He hadn't been one for porn like Raph or Mike and suddenly he desperately wished he had. He didn't know what he was supposed to do down there. There had been two books with raunchier sex scenes--which first he had skipped over in a moral passion, and later returned to with flushed cheeks. Something about a "nub" or a "button." He wished he could see.  
  
Then his finger sank, he felt a depression, he hooked his index finger up inside of her, and slowly pushed it in. He studied her face carefully.  
  
At the same time, her hand was wandering down his chest, down to his belly. The sound of her nails scratching over his plastron made his stomach turn flips. He realized, suddenly, that she was searching.  
  
He gently took her hand with his bandaged one and led it down between his thighs. He was already damp, and his tail was swollen, the head of his cock pressing urgently against the thin layer of flesh.

**

She was already wet enough for him to slide in with ease. She sucked in a breath and bucked down, a soft mewl escaping past her lips. At the same time, she touched his tail and felt it twitch. Her fingers slid up to the base and felt wetness there. He was built differently than a human male, but it didn’t throw her off at all. In fact, it only made her more curious and eager to explore such a hidden part of him.

She pressed her body as close to him as she could, breasts pushing up against the muscular arm that strained to feel her deeper. He was nervous, she could see it in his eyes.

“Don’t hold back,” she whispered, caressing his cheek with the back of her free hand, “just give in to your needs. It’s alright.” She punctuated this with a soft kiss, her tongue slithering past his lips, tasting him while her fingers teased where she could only guess his manhood was hidden. 

**

He twitched as her fingers stroked up the length of his tail and his cock slipped out. Her mouth was already on his and her tongue was sliding past his lips and he still couldn't believe that they were doing this.  
  
He pushed his finger into her, all the way up to his knuckle, and without really knowing what else to do, thrust in another finger. Her body closed around his fingers like an embrace. He stroked softly at the folds of her labia with his thumb.  
  
He dared to slip his tongue into her mouth and pushed forward. Her hand was on his cock. Oh god, her hand was on the most sensitive, private part of him!

**

She felt him slip out into her hand and she started pumping him slowly to a full erection. From what she could tell just by touching, he was somewhat bigger than the average human male but similar in shape. Precome slicked her fingers, gliding over his length as she deepened the kiss. Her hips bucked down once, twice on his fingers, stretching herself with ease. She moaned into his mouth when she felt his thumb brush over her clit.

She finally broke the kiss and released him.

“Scoot up against the headboard,” she instructed softly. She felt his fingers slip out of her and she shuddered, already missing him. While he did as he was told, she quickly got rid of her panties and followed him, crawling into his lap.

She rose on her knees, one arm around his neck for support, the other guiding his cock to her entrance.

She held his gaze and moaned as she sank down.

**

He held his breath when she started pumping. She clearly knew what she was doing. Her grip was firm and officious. His cock swelled, stiffened, lifted in her hand. An all-too-familiar pulse was beginning at the base of his spine.  
  
_No. Not now._

He must have touched her correctly because she bucked against his fingers, moaning into his mouth. Her inner walls squeezed his fingers together. Fireworks went off behind his eyelids. When she finally pulled away, a string of saliva glittering between them and he took the occasion to suck air. It was overwhelming: her scent, their mutual arousal, the heat of their bodies.  
  
"Scoot up against the headboard," she said.  
  
He obeyed. His fingers slid out with a wet pop. As he slid back, his cock twitching and heavy between his thighs, she kicked off her panties. The smell of her was overwhelming. He lifted a trembling hand to his face to smell her odor on his fingers.  
  
And then she straddled him. Her eyes were so dark. He gripped at her waist, first. And then she thrust him inside.  
  
A tremble of delight raced down his spine, down his arms. He moaned without realizing it and instinctively bucked up against her. His tail clamped down. His hands slid down to her buttocks and squeezed.  
  
The sight of her looming above him, her breasts swaying, the sweat trickling down the powerful muscles of her abdomen, the way their bodies joined... he suddenly had no identity, no future, no past, only this blazing pleasure.

**

As she sank down to the hilt, her back arching, she took a moment to get used to the size of him, stretching her to the limit. She closed her eyes in concentration, head tilted over his shoulder. Both her arms circled around his neck and she pulled him into a tight embrace, fingers caressing the back of his head. 

He was trembling.

“Are you alright?” she asked softly, nuzzling his cheek and kissing his neck.

**

He started to laugh, and strangely, tears came with the laughter.  
  
"More than all right!" he said, kissing her ear. "You're so beautiful."  
  
He wanted to say so much more, but again, the upwelling of sentiment was so powerful that he didn't know which part of it to touch first. Surely she'd think he meant she was only physically attractive, but at that moment he loved every part of her, including the hidden darkness inside of her. He loved her for loving him; he loved the way they united so perfectly, the weight of her body on his breast, the tickle of her hair on his throat. He could feel her heart beating from the inside! And the way that hidden part of her embraced that hidden part of him, so completely... it moved him in ways he could not express.

**

He called her beautiful and she smiled faintly against his neck. He kissed her ear and goosebumps ran down her spine from the tenderness of that gesture. She turned her head to meet him halfway, kissing him softly.

Then her hips lifted and she started undulating over him in a steady pace. Lips parted, she gasped and sighed, hooded eyes boring into him. A teardrop trickled down his cheek and she leaned forward, kissing the tears away. He looked completely entranced by her. There was so much devotion in his eyes... and then came the realization:

_I...love him._

She frowned as the thought passed through her mind. It’s not like she wasn’t aware of how strongly she felt about him. How he was special to her in ways she couldn’t (or wouldn’t) put into words. But she always kept those thoughts and feelings safely compartmentalised so they wouldn’t get in the way. It’s not like they could ever be together in the traditional sense of a relationship. But then…

But then she couldn’t let him go. She wanted to have him. She pulled him away from certain death and locked him away in her own little cage. She made him depend on her.

But then… she also depended on him. She needed him to be alive. He completed her in ways she didn’t quite understand. 

And now he was in her bed, and he was inside of her, and they were one--

She picked up pace and closed her eyes, kissing him passionately. She had to will the unnecessary thoughts away. She could never keep him grounded in the present if she would lose her own ground in the process. 

**

Her lips closed on his. He leaned into the kiss, tasting her sweat. Just as he was lifting his hands to run his fingers through her hair, she rocked upward and started to ride him, her inner walls clamping and releasing as she slid up and down his shaft.  
  
He gasped and slid out of her kiss. He bucked dumbly against her. She kissed the corners of his eyes. He was digging his fingers into her ribs and didn't realize it. God, it felt so good. Pressure and release, pressure and release, rippling exquisitely up and down his length. He struggled not to give in. He knew, in his rapidly dissipating logical thought, that the minute he came, it would be over.

He moaned shamelessly. He was lost in a mindless heat. He found himself clenching at the sheets with white knuckles. When had he let go of her? He didn't recall.  
  
She finally squeezed him just right.  
  
With a panting cry, he heaved his hips up, hilting her, and the pressure at the base of his spine exploded. He pumped a stream of seed inside of her and for a minute or two was utterly senseless. Waves of pleasure rolled over him. The only constant was the weight of her body.

**

He moaned unabashedly and the timbre of his voice felt like a caress down her spine. She loved to be the source of those beautiful, lewd sounds. She caressed his cheek lovingly, then held on to his shoulders. Watching his expression, she could tell he was close. She grabbed onto the steel frame of the bed with one hand, squeezing and lifting one last time before--

\--he came undone under her, his voice breaking as he cried his release. She held on and moved with him, helping him ride through his orgasm, squeezing every last drop of his semen out of him, feeling it pool hot within her belly. 

“Mmh…” she sighed. He felt so...right. Like he belonged there, within her, a part of her.

Leo slumped back against the pillow that was crushed between his shell and the headboard. He looked completely spent, eyes unseeing, his breath coming in hot puffs. He was magnificent, a picture of debauchery. Karai straightened her back to admire him, hands resting on the lower plates of his abdomen, a rare smile gracing her lips.

 _He looks...free_ , she cocked her head thoughtfully. 

Free of worry, of the past... of everything that’s been weighing him down. And that, she realized, gave her peace of mind.

**

He was drifting half senseless through a euphoric haze. He lifted back into wakefulness by fractions. There was no fear or tension, only an eternal present. He was heavy with delicious, indolent relaxation.  
  
And then he felt her heartbeat.  
  
He opened his eyes. She still straddled him, her thighs hugging his hips. She was lit up in hues of milk and gold by the morning light. A smile crept across his face and he reached down for her hands. Saying nothing, he squeezed them, and sighed.

**

She took those hands and lifted them. She closed her eyes and kissed his knuckles gently.  
  
Then she looked at him with hooded eyes.  
  
“How are you feeling now?” she husked.

**

"So good," he said through a thick voice. "I wish it didn't have to end."

**

She couldn’t help but smirk. Sure, a round two would be nice, especially now that he knew what to do but—

He needed time to process this. And so did she. It was all slowly catching up to her now. Not like she hadn’t thought this through before, but now that they’ve crossed this final line … it was huge.

It changed everything between them. 

“It has to, I’m afraid,” she husked. Giving him one last enigmatic look, she slowly peeled herself off of him and got up from the bed. She didn’t bother putting on a robe. 

Karai was about to go ahead and take a shower alone, but then she paused and thought better. Turning back to him, she stretched out a hand.

“Come. Let’s take a shower.”

_Together._

-

He moaned softly as she withdrew, and didn't even know he was. He missed her weight at once. And then he slipped out and that was that.

When she extended her hand to him, he rose obediently, sluggishly. He felt bizarrely clumsy, like the parts of his body weren't communicating correctly. He could still smell her... on him. When he slipped off of the bed, he became aware of the ungainly weight and wetness between his legs, and for a moment he was a self-conscious of his swaying manhood. But her eyes were on him, and he suddenly felt safe. Safe with Karai! He laughed a little, his smile lopsided, and grabbed her hand.

"Good idea," he said. "And afterward?"

-

“Afterwards… I’ll kick you around in the dojo,” she said with the smallest of smirks. She wasn’t one for jokes but something made her say it despite herself. Maybe it was the way Leonardo was looking at her with that complete sense of adoration and awe.

She pulled him along to the bathroom and they took a quiet shower under the warm spray, exchanging glances the said more than words could. There was comfort in the silence that they shared.

True to her words, Karai pushed Leo around in the dojo but he gave her more of a workout than she’d expected. By the end of their session Karai was breathing hard and sweating, but she smiled at him with a nod of approval.

Leonardo’s old shine was finally coming back. He looked alive and powerful. Confident, even.

The following week passed in a relatively normal routine, with the added extra of their newly-found intimacy. They explored each other more ways each night and it was a kind of warm bliss Karai hadn’t felt perhaps ever. Leonardo worshipped her body and soul, made her feel a kind of selfless pleasure while watching her every reaction with intensity in his eyes, and she was more than willing to make him feel the same.

One morning Karai woke before Leo and, leaving the peacefully slumbering turtle in her bed, she shuffled to the kitchen to make coffee. She glanced out through the huge window of the living room, the warm light of dawn seeping through the curtains. Her mind was peaceful. She felt she could meditate with ease in this state - perhaps she would ask Leonardo to join her later.

She took a sip of her coffee as her eyes shifted idly to the calendar on the wall and she realized: time was running out. Their two-months deal was almost up.

_What will it be, Leonardo? Are you ready to be alive again?_

-

The shower was so gentle. He could not express how he trusted her, only that he did. There was still part of him that murmured at inopportune moments: "This is Karai we're talking about. You know what she can do. You know what she's like. This is dangerous."

Each time, he pushed the thoughts away. There had been such earnestness in her. Whatever they had shared, it had been genuine.

At the end of the shower, as he towelled off, he firmly decided that he was going to progress as though the morning had not occurred. Not because he doubted her veracity, but because he needed to remind himself of his place. He had released his power of choice to her. He had allowed her to feed him, dress him, train him, all the while ensconced in this strange environment where he was either a pet or a project or both. There was no reason he should not see what they had done as yet another gift.

She had given herself to him, but she was not his.

For some reason, this did not make him unhappy. Even in his most juvenile daydreams, he had never seriously considered a life with her. Their liaison had been... almost an extension of their trust in each other. It strengthened him. Looking at her filled him with a reverence bordering on worship.

He took the events of that morning, wrapped them with care, and secreted them away in his mind.

Their training session was fantastic. His burdens had flown off; where, he didn't care to know. For once, he began to win matches. Speaking a kinetic language, he marveled that he had touched all of that wonderful body.

What was most wonderful was the night, when she had welcomed him back into her bed. He'd managed to push her over the edge, heard her calling his name, and all he wanted to do was keep her calling. There was a famous song--"Take Me to Church," he thought--and he felt as though he truly understood it.

What he had not expected was how they returned to each other night after night, learning new ways to please each other, losing hours in delight, buried deeply in one another; sometimes without speaking at all. He took each moment and hid it away as a treasure.

And then one day, he was fixing tea for the both of them, when he saw the calendar and the marked date. She was in the living room. The choice was in only a few days.

He stared at the date for what felt like ages. The tea steeped for far too long. It would be bitter. He numbly brought it into the living room anyway.

"In three days, all of this will be over," he said stiffly, setting the tray down before her. "But I feel as though we should talk about it now. I've... decided to live." He paused, then knelt before her, and bowed.

"But I have a request," he said, eyes fixed on the carpet. "Let me follow you. I won't expect anything more than a genin of the Foot should expect: a paycheck and a bed. I will do everything you ask without complaint."

-

She was reading a book when he came into the living room, carrying a tray with a pot of fresh tea and two cups. He set it down on the coffee table but she’d noticed the stiffness in his shoulders even before he spoke.

So… there it was. He decided to live. His request did not surprise her at all, she sort of expect him to want to stay within her orbit, even to serve her. But there was one obvious question to be answered first.

“What about your brothers, Leonardo?” she asked simply, her legs crossed as she looked at his kneeling form in front of her.

-

He shuddered and looked away.

"They would never accept me again," he said. "And I am not worthy to lead anyone ever again."

-

“...Very well,” she nodded and stood up. She only cared to ask about his brothers to see where his alliance was, beyond that it was none of her concern.

“You shall serve under my ranks, in one of my special units. You shall reside in one of the Clan dormitories, with a room of your own. All your basic needs will be met as long as you serve the Clan as your utmost priority. Do you fancy this arrangement, Leonardo?”

He nodded mutely.

-

“Rise,” she commanded.

As he did so, she also rose and stepped up to him, staring deep into his eyes. There was determination to live and move forward, she could see it. All he needed was a purpose which he’d requested of her with a humbleness of someone who’d looked death in the eye and lived through it.

Karai put a gentle hand on his cheek and let her fingers run down his pebbled skin.

_You came a long way, Leonardo._

“Welcome to the ranks of the Foot, genin.”

Her smile was genuine.


End file.
